The recording session practice went well, all things considered. In all fairness, we sang our hearts out.

Ted quickly got over his performance anxiety 2 Kansas songs later, which meant River, Scarlet and I were free to leave the booth and let the Wyld Stallyns be. I sat in a tall chair next to Nathan Sheppard, who worked the dials and levers on the sound board.

I rested my chin on my hand, leaned forward comfortably in the chair, and watched the boys have fun.

There was something so enamoring about the two of them playing guitar. They looked so charismatic, Ted's hair flying in all different directions, the concentrated look on Bill's face when he finishes a riff and moves up to the microphone... It was nothing short of seductive.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stay sane. Their voices were getting better, as was their guitar skill, and Nathan's editing had me edging on crazy. I didn't realize how good their voices sounded, usually because I was distracted at their concerts, or trying to call up other gigs when they were practicing at Scarlet's.

I found I couldn't take my eyes off of them. I pulled off my glasses and bit the long, slender piece distractedly, shaming myself every time I hoped Bill's shirt would lift up.

I was always a sucker for someone who could sing or play an instrument, which is why Scar and I got along so well as fans of all our bands. And on top of talent, Bill and Ted, and River for that matter, were all genuine souls with kind hearts.

The song ended, but my trance didn't. Mr. Sheppard startled me out of my happy place as he touched my shoulder to discuss business. I jumped and went pink, afraid he had just caught my inner thoughts.

I hated being distracted, especially since my interest in boys had really only reared it's ugly head this past year, which is shocking for someone my age, but I couldn't stop thinking of my friends like that.

I pulled my eyes away from the sound booth and stared straight at Nathan Sheppard as he spoke. He told me that the boys were good and talented, that they had potential, and that he would like to take us to his studio in Hollywood next weekend so we could set up for real. It was less than an hour away from San Dimas, but he wanted to make a full weekend out of it, to show us his studio, the places we would record videos, and the heart of the company.

Although I lived less than 30 miles from LA, I'd never actually been there, tourist or not, so I was very excited. My parents didn't typically like going to busy or crowded areas, and Hollywood was one of the most populated areas in America.

I secretly hoped I could see a few celebrities while I was there, before Wyld Stallyns themselves became celebrities.

Scarlet was going to flip out, I was sure. Electro Records was the starting point for all of her favorite bands. To be going to the place that began it all... she was going to be in heaven, and I was grinning even with the prospect of joint the great ones.

Bill pulled the cherry red guitar off of his shoulder, and his white half shirt came up with the strap, to show off his chest and abs. I bit the inside of my cheek and fixed my glasses uncomfortably.

Ted struggled with getting the guitar over his head, as it got stuck on the back of his hoodie, and he became tangled in the fabric. The sweater almost came off from the back, and I found myself toying with my rabbit's foot as a distraction.

Bill all but strutted out of the recording studio, confidence dripping from him, chest puffed out and head held high. He took me by the hand and made me stand up, and then embraced me tightly, burying his face in my shoulder. I could feel his teeth on the skin of my neck from how hard he was grinning.

Ted followed suit, and as Bill's arms untangled from mine, Ted replaced them, his hug more tender, looping underneath my own and crossing up my back. My face was in his chest, and I had my ear pressed onto his heart, where I heard it pounding.

When Ted pulled back, his lack of body heat left me feeling cold, so I fished for his hand. I missed.

We stood in a line, completely unprompted, arm to arm, listening to Mr. Sheppard speak to us. He gave each of us a professional looking business card so we could contact him about the upcoming trip to Hollywood. He even wrote his cell phone numbers on the back of the card, and the lot of us were pretty impressed. Those things were brand new, and he had two!

"Mr. Shep-- I mean... Nathan, would you like to go to dinner with us?" I offered politely. I hadn't really even invited Team Stallyns to dinner, it was more of a spur of the moment idea.

Nathan smiled at me, "Thanks, Lucky, but I'll take a rain check. I've got another meeting tonight, but that's kind of you." His teeth flashed at me as he spoke.

"Oh, okay. Thank you, Nathan. I'll... I'll be in touch,"

We shook hands like business partners, and the boys began to gather all their belongings and walk them to the van.

"What do you guys say?" I finally asked, "Wanna get some dinner?"

Ted checked his watch, "Dude! It's 10:00!"

Bill rolled his eyes, "Ted, you forgot to wind your watch again! It's almost 7."

"Dinner would be great right now," River agreed. "What's good?"

"Chinese?" Scar offered.

The consensus had spoken, and Chinese was the verdict. We climbed into the van together, and Ted was very eager to rip off his tie. He threw it behind him into the trunk without a second thought.

Collectively, we all threw in about five or ten dollars, which was good enough to order several servings of vegetable noodles and rice, which we attempted to each with chopsticks.

"Here's to Team Stallyns," Bill declared, holding a single noodle between the two sticks above his head.

"To us!" Ted echoed, putting his hand over his heart and raising his other arm. We air guitarred and finished our meals happily in a little booth by the window of this small shop.